


Spring Rain

by 10outof10



Series: Four Seasons of Chan's Agony [4]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Dino - Freeform, Dino-centric, Flashbacks, Lee Chan - Freeform, Other, Psych Ward, Self Harm, Seventeen - Freeform, THIS IS THE LAST PART, i hope everyone understands this, i love dino pls dont be mad at me, im gonna miss writing this, im so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 23:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9572396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10outof10/pseuds/10outof10
Summary: Why didn't he die? Why did they save him? Why?--Chan's last season. It's raining in spring and he's thankful for that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last of the series: Four Seasons of Chan's Agony. I'm seriously going to miss writing this thing, this isn't the best thing ever but I really love this story.

Maybe it was the absence of his older friend or the deafening silence inside the hospital room that just made him feel a tingling sensation on his hand. A sensation that reminds him that he is capable of death. The images of himself in a pool of his own blood flashes in his head as he had his eyes fixated on the blinding light of the room. Pain. Chan craves pain. He wants to pull out the IV bag and repeatedly chuck the needle all over his itching bandaged arms. He wants to scream and hit himself.

Why didn’t he die? Why did they save him? Why?

Chan’s been in the hospital for a week now, or maybe two? He’s not sure, all he knows is that he doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to go outside, he doesn’t want to be anywhere. Not even on this bed, breathing, recovering. His wound on the side of his body is slowly healing as well as the deep cuts in his arms that will surely leave a scar that will continue to haunt him for the rest of his life. The young boy shifted a little on his bed, and this small movement felt like a huge jab on his stab wound. His teeth grated on themselves as he cursed quietly, tears formed in his eyes but oh, how he loved how that felt.

* * *

 

_The first memory of Chan having a panic attack was two years ago, when he stood alone in the middle of the room all beaten down and dejected. It was the day that he started getting scared of people around him. They seemed like monsters ready to devour him, the slightest touch or noise made him flinch and he doesn’t move from his spot. He hears the shouting and he sees the angry faces darted towards him. He’s confused, he did the right thing, but why are people around him blaming him?_

_“It’s all your fucking fault Lee Chan. If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be failing. Suck up little bitch, go die in a hole.”_

_Go die. It’s all your fault._

_Yeah, Chan, go die in a hole, because it’s. all. your. fault._

_With tear stained face and heavy chest, he hid in a cramped storage room, lights off. The young boy curled up on the floor as he tries to catch his breathe, he felt like dying, the way his body felt like it was twisting inside and trapping his lungs. The air felt nonexistent, his tears forcing themselves out of his eyes enough that blood could start to fall. Maybe he is dying in a hole. A deep abyss. And he kind of likes it here. Because it was quiet, because it was safe to cry. He was hugging himself, and maybe that felt like comfort, maybe._

_It took several minutes before he stopped and finally, he was numb. Blank. He stared at the ceiling where the sleeping lights looked back at him. His back firmly pressed on the floor, he can’t feel anything. It was like he was floating in mid air, and at the same time already burning in hell._

_Chan closes his eyes and falls asleep in the cramped storage room. And the second he woke up, he couldn’t feel anything anymore. He doesn’t know what’s worse, feeling every single thing so intensely or feeling nothing at all._

\--

The needle in his arm was replaced with a sterile piece of cotton held in place by white plaster. The nurse, who is in her mid-40s, looked up at him as she cleans Chan’s cuts, her mouth a thin line, giving a reassuring look, it helped, and he was thankful. “Are you ready to get out there?” she asks casually, she reminded him of his mother, who was never the type to say what she truly feels(Chan thinks that’s where he got it from) but she always gave a sense of security and she would keep him on his feet without having to go over the heavy stuffs. Chan liked that. He liked the fact that he doesn’t talk about how he feels and just forgets about it, kind of like a deviation, but he knows he would go back there again. But he likes this, he wants to forget he’s being eaten alive; he doesn’t want to think he’s dead inside already.

“I don’t know. It’s scary out there.” Chan mutters, he hasn’t spoken in days, his voice hoarse and his throat feels like it’s been scratched. He stares at his wounds that have healed quiet nicely, he smiles a bit, it’s funny how he finds this funny. Just moments ago he still wanted to die and he hated how these medical people are making him feel like shit because they were treating him kindly and there he is being a pain in the ass, now he feels like things are in place and he’s happy. He doesn’t know if this is really happiness but whatever it is, Chan doesn’t want it to stop. He doesn’t want this feeling to go away just yet. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job, son. You’re going to be alright, yeah?” She neatly places the gauze on the cleaned cuts before giving her patient a small pat on his knee. One by one, she placed back her things in a small box that had the logo of the hospital he was staying in. Soon he’ll be moved to the Psych Ward to receive therapy, the company and his parents discussed his hiatus from the group to focus on his mental health. They’ve already announced the matter to the public, Chan’s phone has been confiscated from him so he wont be able to go on social media and he’ll be more isolated from the eyes of everyone once he gets transferred. Though oblivious of what’s happening outside, he can imagine the flood of news articles, fans worried about him, and most importantly, his members trying to move forward with their schedules as they wait for his return.

“Still… thank you.” Chan hangs his head low, he knows he’s been a hard patient to deal with, this nurse has been attending him since day one and she’s seen how bad he could get. Some times he wouldn’t eat, refused to take painkillers, he also took off his IV and almost got out to the balcony. If he was the doctor or the nurse, and he had a patient like him, he’d immediately quit on himself. But they had patience on him, always had a smile on their faces when they greeted him, would give him words of encouragement. He felt their sincerity, and he doesn’t know how else he could repay them.

The nurse held his hand and gave it a small squeeze, he stared at her and he saw her smile. “I’m just happy you’re pushing through with your recovery. You remind me of my daughter, Chan. I hope you give me a visit once you’re okay.” Chan laughs lightly and nods, he really would even if she didn’t tell him that. She lets go of his hand and chuckled softly, “Well, till we meet again.”

The nurse left the room, allowing Chan to have his moment. Her words stuck on him, made him think if her daughter was ever in the same situation as him. Did she survive this? Was she a happy person? He wonders if his nurse had been taking good care of him because she wasn’t able to take good care of her daughter. He shakes his head along with the thought.

His door opened, his father came in the room to take his things and escort him to his new home for a few months, maybe only a month if everything goes well. Chan got up and went into his father’s embrace before looking back at his hospital room. He frowns as he thinks ahead, who’s going to be laying on the bed he had left, will they be able to recover faster than he did? Will it be for the same reason he was in that bed in the first place? He hopes not.

* * *

 

_Chan stared at himself in the mirror. He could see clouds of smoke (which is probably a neighbor in his nth pack) and the rain outside his window. He hears screaming and loud thumping in his chest. It was heavy. Too heavy. This isn’t the first time Chan has hurt himself. But this is the moment he realizes that hurting himself felt more euphoric than forcing to be happy._

_As soon as he took a razor blade and let it glide on his skin, he felt like nothing could stop him. He’d rather take this pseudo happiness, this pseudo power, than having to feel the cold empty loneliness when he sits on his bed trying to hush his demons._

_He looks up at his reflection once more, dropping the blade to his side, he sees the brokenness, the hollow eyes of dead memories, the little boy who used to be so happy. What has the world done to you, Lee Chan?_

* * *

 

In the psychiatric ward, he was placed with teenagers like him. All suffering from depression, anxiety, and “milder” disorders. All finding their way and trying to fix the shards of glass of themselves but only ending up hurting themselves more He wanted to ask the psychiatrist in charge if he could have a separate room and have a different schedule for therapy, but he was told that recovery required company and what better way to do that is with people who understands him more than the doctors ever would. All he got was a separate room and that’s good enough, really.

His things were taken away from him, they had him completely scanned from head to toe to make sure he wasn’t carrying anything sharp with him. They like to put that as a safety measure. To make sure Chan doesn’t harm himself while he’s alone. He was given a plain off-white pajamas that has no string that loosely hung on his body. It wasn’t exactly form fitting, and this is something he couldn’t wear even in a music video. His shoes were also replaced with plain slip-ons, he didn’t ask why they had to take his normal clothes away and instead assumes that this was one of their safely precautions.

Chan doesn’t think too much. His time in this place will be short-lived and he swore by it. He still thinks he doesn’t belong here but his past acts and how he attempted suicide was enough for him to convince himself that he needed this. He looked at everyone through his small window and he sees all of them, they all look so normal. Chan couldn’t believe all of these people have suffered, maybe more than he had. These people have different stories, different wounds, unhealed scars, battles that aren’t certain if they’ve lost or not.

 

 

It took him over a month inside the psychiatric hospital, the schedule inside was tight. In fact, he would say it was tighter than his idol schedules, less physically draining but more mentally and spiritually exhausting. He had to eat with every other patients, talk in groups, timed showers with an escort to make sure he doesn’t relapse inside that shower, and his favorite, the writing time every after dinner and before lights out.

He writes about his time, his thoughts, and that kinda helped him. In group therapy, he can’t really say much, he isn’t comfortable with voicing out his problems especially with strangers, the therapist understands him though. The visit to the psychiatrist’s office twice every two weeks always gives him anxiety, because it meant one on one talks and more antidepressants. SSRIs were initially given to him from the first day, he can’t say whether it works or not, but the doctor says effects wont really take place with a snap of a finger, and Chan thinks ‘what’s the use’ but he takes it anyways.

There were times were he’d lay in bed and crave pain again, and this was one of them. He curls his toes and fingers on his arm, he’s scratching himself. He misses the blade kissing him dearly and how his skin cries blood out of joy. He closes his eyes shut and his balls his fist tight. He can’t do this. He can’t do this. He can’t d--

One of the nurses that usually escorts him everywhere knocks on his door to tell him that his scheduled meet up with the in-house psychiatrist is in five minutes, he stands by the door to wait for the young male. Chan sits up without hesitation and walks over to the nurse, his shoulder weighing in on him as he drags his body out the door and to the office. At this time, the psychiatrist may have already read his entry for the whole week and he’d be talking about it… or not.

As he opens the door, he was greeted with a familiar face. His manager. Chan looked confused, what was going on? There was silence, at least in his head, but he sees the mouth of his psychiatrist curling into a smile before saying the words he couldn’t believe he’d hear.

* * *

  
_“Chan, look at me.” The young boy continues to shake as he catches his breathing, it felt like there was a big elephants stepping on his lungs and he can’t stop the tears from falling from his eyes. He looked up to see Wonwoo, trying to look calm but the worry on his face was prominent, the older male held his hands tightly, removing them away from his red arms. This was the worst time to have a panic attack but his older member was there to help him calm down._

_It took a full ten minutes before the younger one’s attack subside, but Wonwoo stayed by his side. The other members circled around them to hide Chan from everyone, they didn’t say anything to him but he appreciated how they gave him space to get back to himself. It was the first day to Jeju and he’s already a big burden to everybody. He felt bad and numb and all the negative things. He could sense the older members glancing at him with worry in their eyes but Chan stayed completely still on his seat, their manager talking to the flight attendants about what happened and the confidentiality of it._

_“Everything may not turn out okay, but know that I’ll be here when you need me. Don’t forget that Lee Chan.” Wonwoo spoke quietly but enough to hear. Chan cries again. Wonwoo doesn’t talk like that, ever, and he asks himself what has he done to deserve the people he has now._

* * *

 

Chan’s things was finally given back to him. The first thing he wore was his favorite blue pull over and black hat, pairing it with a knee length denim short and sneakers. He looks at his other things and to his desk, there laid his diary that he wrote in for over a month every night. He guess he could keep the notebook. His hands reached out for it, fingers flipping through the pages multiple times. “Chan, let’s go.” His manager broke the silence as he takes the idol’s luggage in one hand. He’s really going back to the dorms. He’s going to see everyone now.

The ride home was unspeakably short, his thoughts had raced in his head and before he knew it the car was slowing down and they’ve already arrived in the basement parking of the apartment complex in which Seventeen stays at. He could smell the familiar scent that screamed ‘home’, and he couldn’t believe how much he missed this. He’s been gone for months trying to recover. Chan’s eyes wandered around the place, taking in the familiar basement, he sees the trash bin where he always throws their huge load of garbage in every two days. He can’t say he is better now, but he will say that he could take the trash out again.

He helps his manager with the small bag as they ride the elevator up the dorm. Chan takes light steps when they step out, he stops by the door and smiles a little.

He’s here.

He punches in the code to unlock the door, the lights were off and the whole space was quiet but-

 

 

 

“Surprise!” The twelve members of the team jumps out from their hiding spot, the lights turning out simultaenously, to greet Chan’s arrival from being discharged. The youngest male looks at them with a straight face as he scans the overly decorated living area. Balloons everywhere, streamers, and a poorly made banner plastered on the wall that says ‘Welcome Home, our Chan! —love, your Seventeen hyungs”. He stood frozen in front of their smiling faces, all of them clearly missed him, there were bags under their eyes and evident tiredness possibly from their busy schedule and worrying over him.

It wasn’t easy covering his hospitalization, the company and everyone had to put a front that Chan was simply injured while practicing so he had to rest for a month or two. He felt guilty again. Everyone here loved him, but he couldn’t bring to love himself. He wasn’t worthy, but these people. These people were by his side, they had patience in him, never did they make him feel less of himself. They were there no matter what. His members loved him very much, they were his family. And this family had their hands reached out to him, waiting for him to take it and stand up again. For Chan, that’s enough for him to pick himself up. It wont be an easy road to his recovery, there will be slumps, relapse, more tears, and he’s scared, but not so much. He is determined to get better. He is bigger than his demons, and even bigger with everyone behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a great journey. It isn't popular but I liked it that way. I connected to Chan in so many levels, at first, this thing was just something I did because of my anxiety and depression. Writing has been something I fall back on whenever I get an episode, and this work is something I've been reading over and over again to remind myself that I've got something to hold on to. I hope this story brings light to mental health, and I hope everyone understands just how scary it is. If you are suffering from one do not be afraid to seek help, do not be ashamed of it, because your mental health is just as important as your physical health. if you know somebody who has a mental illness, please be there for them, you don't need to talk or do anything grand, just assure them that you are there and they can trust you. Recovering from a disorder is not an easy process, I can approve of that, there will be slumps, relapse and when you feel like everything is going well, suddenly your facing it again and it feels like it's bigger than you are but it's not. One day, you're going to wake up and be thankful that you didn't do it that day.
> 
> I am deeply attached to this story because it has kept me grounded. Last year, I could have killed myself, I was there. But I didn't. I told myself to wait, just wait. I don't even know what the fuck I was waiting for but I did anyways. And I'm so fucking glad I didn't do it. I'm not going to lie and tell you it's going to go away, to be honest I still think of killing myself every single day, but I look for something to hold on to. So please, look for something or someone to be your reason to stay alive. 
> 
> "Live and see what's in store for you." "Happiness isn't something big, when you get to eat after being so hungry the whole day, that is happiness" these quotes, I got them from Namjoon(BTS). he's one of my reasons to stay live, and he's right, happiness isn't big, happiness could be found even in small spaces and we tend to overlook them.
> 
> Don't be afraid to fall down and get a more scars. The bravest ones aren't always those who put up a front, they're the ones who aren't afraid to show themselves, to be naked and to show their battle scars. If you are depressed or suffering from any mental illnesses, I am proud of you because you are still breathing. And breathing is a sign that you are fighting. You are loved, and you are bigger than your demons.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading this work. I appreciate it alot. I hope you have a great life ahead of you.
> 
> Signed,  
> 10outof10.  
> ❤


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